Of Dancing Carrots And Puffins
by Ciya
Summary: Crack:fic Dean, Sam and puffins - just another day in paradise.


_Originally written for a 300 word challenge at from about 2 years ago, the rules were that you had to include the words: _bar of soap, ticket, puffin, carrot _and_ suit of medieval armour _in your story._ _The first part is what I entered and the rest is the expanded portion. I was having to much fun with Dean interacting with a puffin to stop._

**Of Dancing Carrots And Puffins**

After a long overdue run to the pharmacy, Dean arrives back at another in a long line of unremarkable hotel rooms to see his younger brother digging through his duffel. Glancing around the room he notices Sam has emptied his own backpack and the weapons duffel, scattering the contents haphazardly around the room. "Dude what are you doing?" He walks over and places the back of his hand against Sam's forehead, "damnit, your fever's gone up."

"Stop it," Sam pushes his brother's hand away and continues to pull clothes out of Dean's duffel while muttering, "where is it? I know it's here. Oh look, a bar of soap." He holds the soap up to the light turning it this way and that before tossing it over his shoulder.

Dean grabs his brother by the shoulders and forces him to stop and look at him, "Sam what are you talking about?"

Sam shakes his finger at the TV, "she..she said she needed it. She said the only way her people could save Talyn was with the golden ticket."

"She who?"

"The Puffin Queen man." Sam sits down in front of the TV murmuring, "chocolate covered puffins are coming to get me." Shivering, he wraps his arms around his knees.

Dean stares at the TV with an incredulous look on his face. "What in the hell are you watching bro?" he asks as a carrot wearing a suit of medieval armour dances across the screen.

"I..I don't know," his eyes are bright with fever as he slowly tips over.

Dean catches Sam before he hits the floor and wipes sweat soaked bangs out of his brother's eyes. "Come on let's get some meds on board," he says hauling Sam up.

"Where's my golden ticket?" a high-pitched haughty voice says behind him.

_**-FIN-**_

Dean turns slowly not quite sure if he believes what he just heard; tightening his grip on his brother he glances around the room. A snapping sound close to the floor catches his attention. A small, comical black and white bird with a colorful beak and a crown on its head is snapping -_How in the hell is it doing that?-_ its wing tip at him.

"I repeat human," it says with a disgusted look on its beady-eyed face, "where's my golden ticket? That one," it points at the younger Winchester, "said he'd find it for me," its high pitched voice lowers to an incongruous snarl, "or die trying."

Dean's back stiffens at the threat to his brother and moves him away from the bird thing staring up at them. "Who in the hell are you?" Dean growls.

The bird puffs up its chest, flapping its wings it stands on the tips of its webbed feet before settling back down again. It proclaims imperiously, "I am Ileana, hereditary Queen of the Puffins, Sovereign of the Golden Crown of Avalonia, Absolute Commander of the…"

"Alright I get it, you're a big bird."

Sam lifts his head and says tiredly, "Big Bird's yellow," he looks blearily down at the indignant bird, "and tall." Dean smiles as he helps Sam sit down on the nearest bed.

"So Sam…not a fever induced hallucination huh?" The younger man shakes his head and lays back on the bed. Dean looks back at the small bird, a small smile cracks his face at the look of annoyance on the bird's face.

"As I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted," Queen Ileana stares pointedly at the brothers, "Commander of the…"

"Asgard Fleet," Dean finishes, walking over and towering over Queen Ileana. "Get to the point before I drop kick you out the window without opening it first," he thinks for a moment, "ah to hell with it," he mutters bending down to pick up the bird.

Flapping her wings and standing on the tips of her webbed toes, Queen Ileana lets loose a series of high pitched squeaks and trills. Small popping sounds fill the room. Dean turns in a circle as Sam blearily lifts his head watching as many small black and white birds appear out of thin air. "Hand over the golden ticket!" the Queen demands. Squeaking and trilling the creatures surround the older Winchester.

Dean pulls a lighter from his jacket pocket, "how about I just Kentucky Fry your collective asses and we'll call it even?"

The trilling and squeaking gets louder and then, en masse, the puffins leap on Dean.

"Dean! Dean!" A voice screams his name as he fights his way out from under hundreds of fishy smelling, feathery bodies; he kicks and shoves the birds, slicing them with his knife, flicking his lighter, his ears cringing from their high-pitched squealing. An large puffin bites his hand causing him to drop the lighter and he rips its head from its -_fuzzy?- _body. A human hand reaches through the fighting, jabbering birds, grabs him and pulls him from the fracas.

"Dean it's over," Sam yells holding a wild-eyed Dean by the shoulders, "it's over!"

"Over? What's over?" he asks looking down at the mess on the floor; hundreds stuffed puffins are scattered across the colorfully tiled floor, their black glassy eyes staring accusingly up at him as stuffing spills out of shredded bodies.

"The spell Dean, I found the witch's alter and burned it," he explains pressing an arm protectively against his side.

"Okay the alter is gone," Dean says not quite sure if he believes his brother then looks around at the stuffed animals again, "so what the hell was this?" he asks waving his hand at the floor.

"I think the witch set some IEDs around the warehouse and you triggered one," he drops his other hand from Dean's shoulder and crosses his arm across his chest, "remember how four executives from this company were found dead surrounded by stuffed animals and the coroner was unable to determine the cause of death?"

Dean forcefully kicks a puffin with a crown on its head and watches it gracefully arc over a shelving unit, "yeah, _Death By Jackalope_ and _The Fox Said Yum_ were two of the more interesting headlines," he glances around the toy stuffed aisle, "so...the alter is fricasseed?" He watches as Sam rubs his side again. "You alright there Sammy?"

"Yeah, I landed on some wooden pallets when the alter went whoompf."

"'Whoompf'?"

"It's a technical term meaning: _pitchy wood soaked in flammable liquids tends to explode quite spectacularly when exposed to flames_," Sam shrugs then grimaces in pain. The brothers wade through the destroyed puffins aiming for the loading dock. "So who was winning, you or the puffins?"

"I totally had them."

"If you say so."

"I was kicking ass and taking names."

"Okay."

"I was."

"I believe you Dean."

Listening to the two men bicker a figure emerges from a dark corner of the warehouse. She watches as the hunters walk towards the back of the warehouse and with a smile on her lips she whispers an incantation; a dull red glow surrounds the hunters and she covers her mouth to stifle her mirth. Quietly the lissome auburn-haired witch hastens to her _real _alter. "Who's 'kicking ass and taking names' now young hunters?" she murmurs. Reaching her alter she quickly casts another spell to keep track of the men. It will be interesting to see what happens first – the hunters die in strange, humourous ways or they realize they failed and are caught in her web with no way out. A full out cackle rattles the rafters, a swift incantation brings all of the stuffed animals in the warehouse to life. A puffin wearing a crown nuzzles her leg while the others surround the witch, their beady eyes glowing as they await their orders to go forth and kill.

_**FIN**_


End file.
